Happy Birthday, Idiot
by DiamondDragon26
Summary: It's just another July 4th for England as he wallows in his own misery, yet again. Maybe this year will be different for him with the help of a frenemy and a confession from a loved one. Fluff with some swearing, because it's tsundere England, who has told me to inform you all that he is not a tsundere, but we all know that he is.


**Okay, so I know it's a couple of days before July 4** **th** **, but happy early birthday, America! We love you, dude! A UsUk fic. Don't like, don't read! But if you do like, please read! : ) I also don't own Hetalia or any pictures used for this story, it's all for entertainment purposes. I had to make this after listening to the UsUk drama CD ; ) IT'S REAL IN MY HEART!**

It was just another Fourth of July for England. The sky was gloomy, just as it was every year with a high chance of rain. He sighed heavily as he traced his finger over one of the foggy library windows. Just as he did every year, he would lie to the others that he had fallen ill, just to avoid the grand fiasco that was America's birthday. It's not that he wasn't invited to participate, in fact, the maturing American invited him every year, but his attempts to invite England had always been in vain.

The silence in his grand home was maddening, and, to take his mind off of the golden days, he decided to watch some television. Perhaps he could pretend that the people talking on the television were houseguests instead. However, his plan for distraction failed miserably as the first station that came on was a news reporter capturing every detail of America's outstanding party.

"Mr. America, I can't tell you what a pleasure it is to meet you today, especially on your birthday."

The birthday boy laughed and wrapped his arm around the woman. "Ah, you flatter me. Don't work! Stay and have fun instead! We have burgers, carnival games, and a make your own Sunday bar! Don't forget to stay super late for fireworks!"

The woman blushed, seemingly unphased by The United Nation's upfront displays of affection towards someone he had just met. "I would love to. Everything today seems perfect for you. So, tell me, how does it feel to be 242 years old?"

"I need a drink." Announced England to no one in particular as he gripped his hair tightly and bashed his head against the chair a few times. Despite how annoyed he was at his current situation, he didn't dare take his eyes off the screen. It was as though he forced himself to endure the torture that was his loneliness.

"Well, it's almost perfect." The American pondered, tapping a finger against his chin. He seemed awkward and embarrassed all of a sudden. "B-but, today would be even better if I could share it with that one special someone. He knows who he is. Then it would be the best birthday I ever had."

"Fuck!" The blond hollered miserably. He flopped to the floor in defeat, forgetting all about that drink he just wanted and moaned pitifully. It started to rain as his windows were now covered with droplets of water and fog, but it seemed perfectly sunny with cloudless skies at America's home.

The English nation must have fallen asleep, as he was awoken by some rather unfriendly kicks to his side.

"England! What in God's name are you moping about this time? Whatever, I don't care. Get the fuck up now!"

England grumbled wretchedly to greet the unwanted visitor. "Go away, France. I'm sick."

"Horse rubbish!" Shouted France. "You and I both know very well you're mourning in isolation over America's birthday. The poor sap even invited you, and here you are wallowing in self – pity like a lonely sack of shit."

"Leave me alone." The other sighed. "The last time I checked you didn't care about me. So, get the hell off my land and let me live my life the way I choose."

France reached down to grab England by his hair and pulled him back up on the chair he sat on before he decided to fall asleep on the floor. "You're right, I don't care about you. You're a pathetic, miserable, dirty old man who can't find beauty in anything, but I do care about America. For some reason, the fool cares about you. You might have fucked up your relationship with America before, but the poor boy wants to reconcile with you, can't you see that? And instead of going back to get who you've been mourning over for centuries, you throw everything away again by moping alone in this sorry big mansion all by yourself. Look at you, you're a mess, and I won't have you going to the party like that."

"I'm not going to the party." Whined the once very powerful British nation, now reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess with red puffy eyes and a sticky face covered with tears.

"Oh, yes you are." France warned, definitely not taking no for an answer and dragged him off unwillingly to the bathroom. He started by shaving off an unruly beard that England seemed to have been growing for the past few weeks. The Frenchman put the razor down and opened a cupboard to find a pair of scissors, and opened and closed them in a threatening manner, close to England's growing blond hair. He smirked down at the other man who now opened his eyes wide with fear.

"N-no! Not again, France. I hate haircuts! I'll go to the party, just don't cut my hair!" England whimpered as the scissors moved dangerously close to his golden locks. They fell to the floor with one snip.

A few moments later, and England was back to looking like his old self again. He seemed surprised as he glanced himself over in the mirror.

France chuckled at his rival's expression and shook his head. "Why, yes England, you do look like that underneath all of those unruly locks."

The English nation pouted and crossed his arms. "Whatever, let's just go to that stupid party and get today over with. Then you never intrude on my property and bother me again."

France laughed out loud, his face now turning redder than Romano's delicious tomatoes. "No, I'm not making any promises. True, I may hate you, but… bothering you makes my life so much more fun."

The other man 'hmphed' and avoided France's gaze. "I agreed to go already! So stop wasting your time mocking me and let's just go!"

Much to England's pleasure, most of the major party events seemed to have died down as it grew later into the evening. _'Perfect. I might actually be able to enjoy my time without all of the unnecessary yelling from unruly brats.'_

"England! Oh my god, England?! Is it really you!" A familiar voice cried loudly as he hugged the blond from behind. "I can't believe you actually came." America said as he hugged the British country tighter than a boa constrictor.

"America… I can't – I can't-"

"What? Believe you actually came out of your house for my birthday?" He cheered, still not letting go of his overly tight grip.

"I can't breath!" Warned England with a very strained, hoarse voice.

"Oh, sorry dude." The other country apologized. "Anyways, you're just in time for burgers and fireworks. I… really am happy you actually came today. Sorry if I got too excited." The American apologized, slightly embarrassed by his own behavior.

England smiled fondly and hugged the birthday boy back. "So am I." He said, mostly to himself.

A few feet away, France mocked his frenemy by making kissing gestures and pretending to make out with himself.

England's face turned red with anger as he silently promised to kill the French frog.

Later that night, England and America shared a cozy picknick together with all American burgers and fries.

"I know it sounds a little childish, but I'm totally excited for the fireworks!" America proclaimed, slightly flustered.

"Some things never change." Said the Brit with a small chuckle. "Anyways, I need to talk to you, America. It's about something that's been beating me down for centuries."

The US nation now looked slightly confused, but very concerned for his friend. "Yeah, Iggy. You can tell me anything. You know that."

England sniffed before continuing. "I'm sorry, just allergies. Anyways, I-I know I fucked up our relationship in the past. And I know you're independent now and I completely respect that, but…" He began to sob uncontrollably.

America immediately leaned over to hug him. "Don't worry, dude. I know you don't want anyone to see you cry, I won't let that happen."

"I love you." England confessed. "I know I started to love you differently when you aged. I loved you differently when you were younger, but I… I needed you in a different way when you left me. I love you, and I want to live with you again. It will be different this time, and we can be partners – if you want. Partners for life, and as equals. I'll serve you this time, and I can change! I don't just want you back, I need you."

Before he could continue his plea, England was stopped as America leaned so close to his face that blue eyes met green, and kissed him tenderly, and tenderness transformed into passion very quickly.

"I love you, too." The American giggled. "That's why I wanted you to come to my party, because I wanted to spend time with you, not because I felt sorry for you or anything like that. I want to spend time with you because I love you."

England finished wiping the tears from his eyes. "R-really?"

The other man laughed before kissing the Brit again on the lips. "Yeah, really. Look! The fireworks are finally starting! England?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for making this my best birthday ever."


End file.
